


This is War

by burntmythroatskullingmytea (Tytoaster)



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dead animals, F/M, Ivar slightly turned on by your antic’s, More of a mutual hate?, Prank War, coarse language, disgruntled uni student, extremely antisocial behaviour, flatmates, hinted masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tytoaster/pseuds/burntmythroatskullingmytea
Summary: You are flatmates with Ivar, everything is fine, until, you cross the line. now it's all out war as the two of you battle for your right to residency(This was a Prompt from @whenimaunicorn's Friday Night Ritual on Tumblr. This is just for fun  I thought of this when I saw one of the photos from Alex's  recent photo shoot.)





	This is War

This was it, you told yourself. You’d had it. This had to stop. This was the seventh time this week alone. You didn’t mind music, hell, you even loved the song that was playing right now, but you could not sleep with ‘Hit the Road Jack’ blasting out of your flatmate’s room at 1:00 am. You didn’t know him very well. You shared a kitchen, living room and bathroom, the rest of your time you spent in your room studying or out working shifts at the Petrol station. The landlord Floki had said that he was a family friend, also he advised that if you kept out of Ivar’s way, you’d be fine, whatever the hell that meant. 

The conditions of your stay were fine by you, the flat was relatively nice, in your price range and close to the train station. You had no problem’s with your flatmate. You hardly even saw him. Sometimes he would be in the kitchen when you went to get something or he’d be watching TV. You smiled and said hello, but he would just glare back say the occasional hi or hey. And that was the way things were until, the second week in when you accidentally ate his favourite cereal. To you it wasn’t a big deal, you’d honestly made a mistake and grabbed the wrong box when you went for a midnight snack. You brought him a new box and put a post-it note on it saying that you were sorry. And that’s how it all started. **  
**

* * *

You’d gone to get ready for a lecture the next day. You had a shower and went to dry your hair with the hair dryer. You turned it on only to get a face full of baby powder. You sputtered and shrieked, but after you laughed. Yeah, okay, you had to admit that was pretty funny.

“Okay Ivar, I supposed I deserved that, good one!” You sung out to him across the house, but you got no reply. You sighed, would it really kill him to say something other than; hey, hi, good, hmm, yes, no and bye? You cleaned off again and left for your lecture. That night you came home from your shift and you couldn’t wait to finally get some shut eye. You opened the door to your room and flopped onto your bed, only to jump back up and scream in pain as what felt like a dozen needles dug into your flesh. Heaving, you threw back the covers to find forks strategically taped exactly where you had flopped on the bed. Okay, this was not funny. How the hell did he even get into your room? You had locked it with a key.

You marched to his room and pounded on the door. He opened it with a smug expression on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Ivar, I am sorry about your cereal, but forks, really?”  

“Oh it’s not just about the cereal,” he snarled, his face contorted into a wicked grin.

“Okay?” You took a step back, “What is this about then?” He actually looked quite scary.

“I was quite happy here by myself until you showed up, leaving the teaspoons wherever the hell you like, kicking ice cubes and crumbs under the fridge, putting the water bottle’s back half empty and your hair…”

“What about my hair?” You asked defensively.

“You shed like a dog, it’s fucking everywhere!” You felt as if you’d been slapped, did he just compare you to a dog?

“What is your problem!?” You yelled at him.

“You!” He growled back, but then he smirked, “But you won’t be for much longer, I will get rid of you, just like the last one,” he sneered and he slammed the door. Leaving you confused and slightly scared. What did he mean like the last one? Was he a serial killer?

* * *

The days past and his meaning became clear; he wanted you to move out. However, you were determined to stay a thorn in his side. You endured; food dye in your toothpaste, your clothes changing colour in the wash, him buying a universal remote and randomly changing the channels while you were watching TV, an ice bucket challenge in the middle of the night, even, finding a dead mouse in your shoe and a frog in the coffee pot but, you drew the line at continuous sleep deprivation. You marched to his room again and pounded on the door.

“Okay asshole I am willing to negotiate with you!” You screamed over the music. It suddenly stopped and the door swung open, he greeted you with a triumphant smirk plastered across his face.

“So,” he drawled, “When will you be leaving?” You clenched your fist.

“I will not be leaving!” You fumed. He snarled and turned back to the stereo, you grabbed his wrist before he could flip it back on, “I know you can’t sleep either while that’s blasting.”

“I won’t stop until you are gone and I get my flat back, this is war,” he snatched his hand back.

“You are insanely petty, you know that? The flat was never yours, it belongs to Floki! Stop acting like a child! I’m staying here, whether you like it or not and you’re going to have to either, deal with it or move out because I sure as hell can’t afford anywhere else!” You screamed at him. He stiffened and looked at you curiously.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, hold the record,” he commented looking you up and down

“What record?”

“The record for longest stay; four weeks two days, before that it was only two weeks.You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black,” you spat before turning around and storming out of his room. The music started up again. You turned back around to see him flipping you the bird in the hallway. “Really? Grow up Ivar,” you commented before you grabbed your bag and headed out the front door.

“Where are you going? Are you finally leaving?”  

For once you smirked back at him, “If you want a war, you’re going to get one. I’m bringing down the thunder Ivar, surrender or batten down the hatches.”

* * *

You went to the 24hrs corner store. Not only were you going to need, weapons, tools and ammunition you were going to need protection and provisions. You had three brothers, you were a prank war veteran, but this was no laughing matter, your residence was at stake. When you finally got to the checkout the clerk looked at your items and then to you.

“Don’t ask,” you warned and slapped your card on the desk, the clerk only nodded and scanned the items.

“Are you okay hun?” She asked slightly concerned.

“I haven’t slept in two days and there’s a frog in my coffee pot. No, I am not okay.”

“Boyfriend trouble?” She asked handing you your groceries.

“I wish it was that simple,” you murmured and headed back to your flat.

* * *

The first thing you did was lock your door, then you barricaded it. You had no lectures or shifts tomorrow, but you knew for a fact that Ivar did, you had taken a photo of his timetable he left on the kitchen bench. Revenge would come, but not now, you thought to yourself as Annie Lennox’s voice drifted through the flat singing ‘Sweet Dreams’. Sweet dreams indeed you smiled as you pulled out your industrial-grade earplugs and slipped them into your ears.  

* * *

The next day you didn’t waste your time. You avoided the trip wire in the hallway and made a beeline for his room. You experimentally turned the door knob. Locked. You took out your key, now was the moment of truth, was Floki a real cheapskate? Had he installed the same locks? You slid the key in and it miraculously fitted and turned. So that’s how Ivar was sneaking into your room. You smiled and stood back, not stupid enough to stand in front of the opening door in case he booby trapped it. But after nothing happened it appeared that he thought you were either stupid or had no lock picking skills. You hauled your supplies into his room and got to work. When you were done in his room you pulled out your phone. You opened the phonebook and found the number you were looking for and dialled it. You couldn’t wait for Ivar to get back home.

* * *

He came home at five o’clock. He opened the door and slipped on the oil you had placed there moments before.

“Welcome home, flatmate,” you smiled as you sat on the couch sipping your tea.

“Amateur,” he grunted picking himself off the ground.

“I tried my best.” You shrugged feigning defeat.  You wish you could follow him and watch the chaos unfold with your own eyes, but you lurking down the hallway would make him suspicious. You didn’t worry though, you had hidden a camera in his room. You wondered what would get him first, the chair or the bed. A loud hoot of a fog horn and a scream of shock answered your question. The chair.

“You’ve been in my room?!” He raged.

“Oh yeah I hope you didn’t mind, I had a bit of a clean up in there. See, you had so many clothes and I thought that there were so many people in need, so I donated them.” You smiled sweetly. “Oh,” you added, “And I found your porn stash you pervert, that’s gone too.”

You heard him start stomping down the hallway cursing. Time to go. You ran to your room and shut the door and locked it before he reached it.

“You coward! Come back out here!” He slapped your door angrily. You didn’t actually donate his clothes, they were safely wrapped up in plastic bags under your bed, but the porn stash? Well, it rested in pieces.

“You thought I was a problem before? How do you like me now mother fucker!” You taunted. You heard him rustle the keys, and scratch at the lock. You smiled, ah revenge was sweet.

“What the fuck?” he cursed.

“Also, I figured out how you’ve been getting in here, I had a locksmith come today. Give it up Ivar.”

“Okay, well played, well played. I didn’t know you had it in you, but you’ll have to come out sooner or later,” he hissed.

“Nope, I’m set for a few days. I have a cooler, a bucket, food and water in here. Do you yield?”

“Never! When you come out I will make you regret this, I’ll have Floki evict you,” he snarled.

“What? Can’t you get rid of me yourself? What is it now? Hmm… four weeks and three days?”

You heard him storm off grumbling something under his breath.

* * *

You smiled as you heard the smoke alarm go off accompanied by a string of curses. That would be him microwaving the aluminium foil you taped to the underside of his favourite plate.

“Do you yield?” You yelled out.

“Go to hell!” You got in response. You smiled, you were enjoying this too much.

“I have your clothes,  if you give up and allow me to live in peace and admit that I am worthy of staying here, I’ll give them back to you,” you cooed. You heard him storm back to his room, moments later you heard a disgusted yell. That would be the live crickets you put in his bed. Half an hour later you heard laughter. Mad, broken laughter. You assumed that would be because of the Nicolas Cage face you had pasted to the inside of his cupboard or the swapped CDs in the wrong cases. You frowned as you heard footsteps approach your door. What was he doing now?

* * *

“Okay asshole I am willing to negotiate with you,” he spoke finally.

“There will be no negotiation, you yield, we live in peace and you admit that I am worthy of staying here and I will give your clothes back.”

“Oh but you are forgetting something,” he almost sung. You creased you brow.

“And what’s that?”

“I can change the Wifi password.”

“No!” You shrieked. That evil bastard!

“Are you ready to negotiate?”

You couldn’t risk it. You opened the door. Ivar strode in and sat at your desk.

“Now what?” You shrugged, “I’m not leaving.”

“Neither am I,” he stated.

“Well it seems we agree on one thing, we both want to live here. So can we live in peace?”

“I think we can, If you give me my clothes back and never cross me again.”

“I will, if you don’t cross me again and you swear never to change the Wifi password. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” he nodded and you shook his hand. He seemed to hold some kind of newfound respect in his eyes. Smiling you bent down and reached under the bed to retrieve his clothes. You turned back around and caught him quickly averting his eyes. Wait? Was he just staring at your ass? You looked back to him and frowned, don’t be stupid, you told yourself. You infuriate him. He would not be one bit interested in you.

“You are a worthy opponent, and you by far, are my favourite flatmate,” he grinned darkly.

“Well you’re not my favourite flatmate, but you keep me on my toes,” you smiled and shoved his bags of clothes in his arms and herded him out the door. He got to his room before he turned to you again.

“By the way, I was bluffing, only Floki can change the Wifi password. I just needed a way to get you to listen to me,” he smirked, “You still need to prove you’re worth keeping around.”

Damn it, you fumed. He had no real leverage, he tricked you into a truce!

“Oh go fuck yourself!” You hurled the first insult that came to your mind.

“Perhaps I will,” he turned back to you, you gawked like a fish out of water. “But trust me,” he continued, “After this, I won’t be imagining that my hands are my own, my favourite flatmate,” he smirked suggestively and shut the door behind him locking it, leaving you a flustered mess. You buried your face in your pillow and groaned. You bolted up in shock when you realised you had left the camera in his room, rolling. Fuck.

 

 


End file.
